


Reconnaissance

by BroadwayBaggins



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Alice is a spy and not always a terrible one, Anne Hastings has no time for your games, Bryon Hale is a braggart, F/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Southern Belles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: Mama had told her to be quick, but Alice had other ideas.
Relationships: Alice Green & Emma Green, Emma Green/Henry Hopkins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Reconnaissance

i: 

Mama had told her to be quick. Drop off the basket--donations of bandages, food and supplies, even precious coffee and sugar that Alice hated was going to go down the gullets of those horrid Yankees--and speak to Emma if she could. Alice could have told her mother that it was a worthless errand, that if Jane Green couldn’t convince her eldest daughter to come home, Alice wasn’t going to be able to--but a perverse curiosity had overtaken her, and she had agreed to make the journey to Mansion House without too much protest.

She wanted to take a closer look at just what had made her sister turn her back on their family and everything they stood for.

“How do I look, Belinda?” she asked, glancing at herself once more in the mirror above the vanity, making sure that her bonnet was tied in a perfect bow below her chin. Her blonde curls were tousled just so--enough to look endearing and girlish, but not so much as to make her seem a harlot. She widened her eyes as she gazed at her reflection and tried to look as innocent as possible. “Will I do?”

“You look lovely, Miss Alice,” Belinda said after a moment. She sounded tired, or maybe like she didn’t care. Alice clenched her jaw but said nothing, regarding her reflection one last time.

She looked like a perfect porcelain doll. And no one would suspect a porcelain doll of anything untoward.

ii:

“I have a basket of supplies, compliments of my parents, Mr. and Mrs. James Green,” she said to the older woman who appeared in the doorway when Alice arrived. Alice flashed her her best and brightest smile. She received little more than a grunt in response, but the old crone inclined her head and indicated that Alice should come in. The first barrier was cleared.

“I thank you. This will be most welcome.” She held her hands out for the basket, but Alice tightened her grip, refusing to concede just yet.

“I had hoped to give it to my sister in person,” she said, then immediately kicked herself for showing her hand too quickly. Would she suspect anything from her asking for Emma right away? Would she think she had some sort of illicit message for her sister?

The woman clicked her tongue once, her eyes narrowing as she looked Alice up and down. Alice smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and finally the woman nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. Last I saw her, she was with the chaplain. Second floor.”

Alice frowned. _The chaplain?_ Oh, she remembered _him,_ all right, he who had sat with Tom to pray, who had...who had...

“I trust you know the way.”

_Yes, I do, you old hag--I know it because this is my family’s hotel you stole_.

She smiled again, but with considerably less warmth. “I’ll manage,” she said before sweeping past the woman, hoping she’d never have to lay eyes on her again.

iii:

“I haven’t seen them, and I haven’t the time to look for them, either.”

Alice bit her lip and fought the urge to hit the British woman upside the head with her basket. Actually, hitting her would be too good for this hoity-toity thing who somehow considered herself superior to every soul, Confederate or Yankee, under this roof. Alice wished she could take one of the rolls of bandages and shove it down the Brit’s throat. She allowed herself to picture it for just a moment before pasting on another sugary smile. “They?” she asked innocently. “I’m _sure_ I only asked for my sister.”

“Yes, I _know_ that, girl.” Perhaps the woman meant it as a term of endearment, but Alice bristled at the familiarity and the fact that she appeared to be dismissing Alice as little more than a child. Her fist clenched around the handle of the basket. “But Miss Green is hardly to be found without the company of Chaplain Hopkins these days. It seems wherever one looks, they’re always together. If you search for one, I’m sure you’ll find the other. Now, if you’ll excuse me. _Some_ of us have work to do.”

And then she was gone, brushing past Alice in much the same way that Alice had done to the Irish matron downstairs. She almost would have felt remorse if she wasn’t so hopping mad, as Belinda might say. She readjusted her grip on the basket--the wicker was digging into her skin most painfully--and set her free hand to her face, hoping she wasn’t blushing too terribly. Emma and Jimmy had always teased her about how red her face got when she was cross about something, and it wouldn’t do to have her flushed face give her away now...

The insufferable British woman had helped her in one way, even if she didn’t know it. Alice now knew that if she were to find that dreadful chaplain, her sister wouldn’t be too far behind.

iv:

“‘Scuse me, ma’am.”

Alice’s shoulder sang in pain where the colored woman had smashed into her. And while the proper thing would be for her to avert her gaze, she was meeting Alice’s eyes, bold as brass, as if it were _Alice_ who’d bumped into _her_ instead of the other way around. As if she were waiting for _Alice_ to apologize. Her skin crawled with revulsion, and not just because of the blood on the woman’s apron or the basket she carried under her arm, the contents of which Alice decidedly did _not_ want to know.

She swallowed her disgust. “I’m looking for my sister,” she said without preamble, refusing to give the woman what she wanted. “Emma Green?”

The woman’s expression softened, something almost like a smile flickering across her face. Hell’s bells, had Emma charmed _everyone_ under this godforsaken roof? Was no one too lowly for her saintly big sister--had she no shame? Mama would weep to know.

“She and Chaplain Hopkins were praying with one of my boys, last I saw her. She never seems to be far from his side. They work well together.”

Alice turned and fled up the stairs before she could hear another word from the woman’s poisonous mouth.

v:

Alice was already regretting asking the doctor. The other one, the younger one with dark hair and a full beard and sad, intense eyes, hadn’t even given her the time of day when she’d approached. He had ignored her almost completely, slipping around the corner saying he needed to see a patient urgently, and so she’d been forced to ask this one. Doctor Hale or some nonsense like that, another wretched Yankee--the place was positively crawling with them. An infestation of the worst kind, Alice decided. She had hardly even been able to get a word in edgewise, for the doctor had--inexplicably--taken her for someone interested in medicine, or worse, an _admirer_ of sorts. He had hardly stopped talking since Alice had first spoken to him, subjecting her to a horrific tour of the ward that she had decidedly not asked for.

“And over here we have a pair of brothers--different regiments, mind you. A miracle they both ended up here, of all places! And wounded on opposite sides of the body from each other! Who could imagine such a coincidence! _I_ did the amputation on the first one. Textbook case, no complications--a surgeon’s dream!”

Alice pressed her hand to her mouth and hoped the doctor wouldn’t notice how green her face had gotten. The smell on the ward was unbearable. She’d have to scrub for hours to get it out of her hair...

“And healing very nicely, I’ll add. You’ll forgive me just a bit of boasting in this case. I promise you, madam, I am usually the picture of humility. And the other one...” the doctor’s shoulders slumped for just a moment. “Well, _that_ was Foster’s doing. I offered to do both myself, but he _did_ insist...and if you’ll follow me this way, we have--”

“Excuse me, Doctor!” Alice said quickly, cutting him off before she could be subjected to any more of this torture. “I’m afraid I actually came here on a very specific errand. I’m looking for my sister. Emma Green. She’s a...” she all but spat out the words, “nurse here.”

If Doctor Hale noticed Alice’s discomfort, he ignored it. “Ah, Miss Green! She shows some promise. She’s certainly come a long way since her first day here. I tell you, I did have my doubts about her ability--it’s not for everyone, this kind of work, and--”

“Have you seen her?” Alice all but shouted, forgetting all about the need to be ladylike and polite. Doctor Hale all but jumped out of his skin.

“I was getting to that!” he whined. “She’s just down the hall...”

Alice flashed him her most winsome smile. She supposed he had earned at least that much. “Thank you, Doctor. I can find my own way.”

vi:

She spotted them almost immediately. They were both leaning over a bed at the end of the hall, speaking in hushed voices. To an outsider, they might have been praying, but Alice knew better. Their heads were bent together in a scandalously familiar manner--Mama would faint to see them so shameless!

The man on the bed between Emma and the chaplain appeared to be dozing--at least, Alice certainly hoped so. Emma stood with her back to Alice, and so Alice felt brave enough to take a few steps toward them, hoping to catch a bit of their conversation. The chaplain might recognize her, of course, but Alice hardly cared. Her sister wore a dress of dark blue that Alice only vaguely recognized, and something about her posture was different. Alice wasn’t sure what it was--she thought, for one shocked moment, that perhaps her sister had foregone wearing her corset that day--before she realized that Emma looked so at ease because she was. She looked, even from behind, like there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be than this stinking house of death and pain, filled to the brim with traitors--and _him_.

She took another tentative step forward, praying that the floorboards beneath her wouldn’t squeak. Emma continued to fuss over the sleeping soldier, checking his pulse and doing whatever else a nurse needed to do. She spoke, but Alice was unable to make out her words. The chaplain’s response was more clear. “He’ll be able to go home as early as next week, Doctor Foster says. No doubt the excellence of his nurse has something to do with it.”

Emma looked down, but Alice saw her shoulders shake slightly and realized her sister was laughing. “You flatter me, but I can hardly take all the credit.” Alice’s eyes narrowed as she watched Emma hand the chaplain a pair of scissors and some scraps of bandages. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw their fingers brush for just a moment longer than necessary. She knew that she didn’t mistake the fond, tender look in the chaplain’s eyes, as if he wanted nothing more than to reach across the bed and lay his hand on Emma’s cheek...and Alice was sure if she could see Emma’s face, she would find that same look echoed there...

Alice had seen enough. She abandoned her basket on a nearby chair and fled, refusing to look back. She didn’t care how much noise she made in her retreat. She just knew she had to get out of there.

Back across the ward, Emma and Henryheard a flurry of footsteps and looked up just in time to see a glimpse of silk skirt disappear around a corner. “What in the world was that?” Emma asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I have no idea.”

vii:

“Did you see her, Alice? Did you see Emma?”

Her mother’s eyes were cloudy for reasons Alice decided she did not want to know. She looked at her but did not seem to see her fully, as if she were viewing her youngest daughter from behind a veil of fog or smoke. Alice shook her head resolutely.

“No, Mama. I did not.”

**Author's Note:**

> In a recent comment, middlemarch mentioned that Alice must have been keeping a pretty close eye on Emma and Henry. That inspired this piece, of a nosy Alice trying to garner exactly what is going on between her sister and the chaplain, and perhaps finding out a bit more than she bargained for. I also wanted to explore how Alice would encounter different characters that we don't really see her interact with onscreen. This is the result.


End file.
